


Red

by elisetales



Category: Starfighter (Comic)
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationship, Angst, Cain is horrible, Kissing, M/M, References to Prostitution, Self-Harm, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 12:42:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/674520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/670293">'Deimos' Backstory' by Tomoscloud.</a> Cain and Deimos have a fight, and Cain takes it upon himself to get the dirt on Deimos. What he finds surprises him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't already, you should probably read Tomoscloud's fic first; this probably won't make much sense without it. 
> 
> And quick warning: Cain is pretty horrible in this, so please be warned the opening scene may be upsetting.

"He said you fucking _kissed_ him," Cain snarled, pacing back and forth in front of Deimos.

Deimos stayed glued to the wall while Cain glared at him, his palms pressed flat against the metal. He was breathing hard now, pink in the face, and he couldn't look Cain in the eye. Cain knew it was true.

"You little _slut_." He moved fast, too fast for Deimos to duck out of the way. He punched the wall beside Deimos' head and went straight for his throat, wrapping his fingers round the little shit's neck and squeezing the smooth column of flesh, hard enough to leave dark bruises. He found Deimos' windpipe and pressed down hard on it, shook him and threw him back into the wall so that his head smacked against it with a loud _crack_.

"G-get off," Deimos begged, face paling to white, struggling to breathe with Cain cutting off his air supply. " _Cain_..." He shoved at Cain's arms, scratched and pinched him but couldn't manage to throw him off.

"Yeah, bet you're glad you got off now, aren't you? With my _fucking_ navigator," Cain spat. "Was it worth it? Huh?"

"Cain, _please_..." Deimos pushed weakly at Cain's forearm, kicked him in the shin, but finally slackened and stopped struggling. Gave up, just like that. Cain smirked and knew he'd won. He always won.

He wouldn't have even noticed it if Deimos hadn't been staring at it.

Cain kept him pinned to the wall and followed the line of his gaze, looking down at his own stomach and stunned into silence when he realized Deimos had managed to pull his knife free; that he now had the glinting tip of it pressed up against Cain's gut, just hard enough to sting a little and break the skin, a tiny patch of red spreading beneath Cain's shirt. He glanced back up at Deimos and found him staring back at him with a terrified look on his face. "You _fucking--_ "

"Just let me go," Deimos choked. "I don't want to hurt you. Please." His eyes were round as saucers, whole body shaking, like _he_ was the one being threatened with a fucking knife.

Cain looked down at it again and did, knew a lying whore wasn't worth being gutted over, and Deimos pitched forward, fell to his knees and gasped for breath, holding his knife out in front of him like he didn't trust Cain to be finished with him. He was right. Dazed, Cain lifted his shirt to inspect the wound and briefly wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty face, panting as he glared down at Deimos' huddled form. 

"This isn't over, you little bitch." He booted Deimos hard in the stomach and watched him silently crumple in on himself; still so quiet, even when he was hurting. He picked up Deimos' knife too and pocketed it. Left to go make sure Deimos suffered for everything he'd done.

* * *

Cain had been given the access codes to the crew's confidential files when he'd accepted Bering's mission, though the commander had warned him that if he ever used them for anything other than keeping tabs on Abel he could expect a week in the brig and a swift kick up the ass.

Cain was prepared to risk it.

He wasn't planning on tampering with anything, just wanted to see what was in Deimos' file; find something he could use to get the sneaky little slut a good one for trying to fuck with him. Bering wouldn't be any the wiser about it, and if he did find out then he was fond enough of Cain to let it slide, providing Cain bullshitted him well enough.

Checking once more to ensure he was still alone, Cain booted up the comp and punched in the necessary codes; answered each of the prompts and searched the system using Deimos' task name. His heart thudded against his ribcage, anxious now and he wasn't even sure what for. Deimos deserved this, Cain had to remind himself. Wasn't like he hadn't brought it upon himself with his bullshit and his lies and his two-faced scheming.

Cain leaned heavily against the machine once he'd found what he was looking for. Deimos' enlistment photo stared back at him from the bright screen, Deimos looking just as miserable and cagey back then as he'd seemed the day Cain had first met him.

He pressed the photo and it took him straight into Deimos' records. Cain scanned down the page, briefly skimming Deimos' medical information: his height (five-foot-three), his weight (one hundred and fifteen pounds, like that was a surprise), and his date of birth--a year and a half older than Cain, Cain was surprised to find. He'd always assumed Deimos was lucky to be pushing twenty. Guessed they just made them runty like that in the slums.

No known allergies. No chronic health conditions. Perfectly healthy, if a little underweight. Nothing Cain couldn't have figured out on his own with one glance at the little shit.

He scrolled on down and found what he was really looking for--Deimos' psych records. Everything he'd ever need to know about Deimos' past. Everything he'd ever need to get right under his skin; hit him where it'd hurt the most.

Cain smirked to himself, sure Deimos wouldn't see this one coming; outwitted by Cain, even when he thought Cain was nothing but a fucking idiot who only ever thought about his dick, and that _he_ was the smartest fighter on the fucking ship. Probably true, Cain conceded, but he sure as fuck wasn't the most ruthless.

Cain opened the file, read through the first few paragraphs and promptly wished he hadn't. A cold wave of nausea washed over him as he dragged himself through the rest of it--Deimos' entire life story; everything about him there was to know: Where he'd been born. What his name was. Where he'd grown up. The death of his father in a colony mine when he'd been just nine years-old. What his mother had done to him the day she'd died and made him an orphan. His juvenile criminal record--picked up on the streets twice for soliciting. Blowing old men just so he'd have enough money to feed himself.

Sickened, Cain logged off the system and shut the comp down, his skin crawling, and backed away from the thing like he'd touched something dirty.

He stared at the blank screen for a few seconds longer, trying to collect himself and figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do now that he had more than enough dirt on Deimos to rub something new in his face each day for the rest of their enlistment. Only Cain wasn't sure he wanted to do that now. Was struggling to remember just what the fuck they were fighting over and why it'd been so important in the first place.

* * *

Cain found Deimos exactly where he'd left him, only now he was curled up on the bottom bunk and facing the bulkhead, small hands clamped over his ears. The red light above the door to the head was on and blinking, the navigator probably in the shower. Cain guessed he had a minute or two to say what he had to say.

"Oi. Deimos."

Deimos didn't turn around, but the way his back stiffened told Cain he'd heard him. "Deimos," Cain repeated, even now that he knew the name Deimos had been born with. Wouldn't ever use it, though. Didn't trust Deimos not to lose his shit on him and slit his throat if he ever brought up anything he'd learned tonight. He knew Deimos too well. Knew himself and exactly what _he'd_ do if some asshole ever tried to fuck him over with the worst bits of his past.

"I've got your knife, kid," he added when Deimos didn't answer him, and that got the reaction he'd been looking for. Deimos rolled over onto his side to face Cain, staring up at him with big grey eyes; suspicious, like he thought Cain was going to stab him with it. He glanced down at it and back up at Cain. Still wouldn't say anything.

"Tch." Cain tossed the knife at him, and this time Deimos was quick enough to catch it. He stared up at Cain like he was wondering if he'd missed something, like where the fuck Cain's rage had vanished to.

Cain was wondering the same thing, pissed with himself for getting guilty over shit that had nothing to do with him. Deimos had still messed with Abel. He was _still_ a sneaky whore. Cain tried to push that out of his mind for the minute, though. Wasn't like a fucking kiss meant anything anyway.

He sat down on the edge of the bed next to Deimos and shoved him over until there was enough space. Deimos pressed himself into the wall and wouldn't meet Cain's eyes.

"You pull a blade on me again and I'll fucking kill you," Cain told him, without heat.

Deimos flushed and looked down at the mattress, picking at it nervously. He nodded, and his throat rolled as he swallowed. "I didn't m-mean it. I thought you were going to kill me," he admitted, his dry rasp of a voice rawer than normal.

Cain snorted. "You touch my navigator again--you so much as _look_ at him--and I will. Keep your fucking hands to yourself."

He made to stand up and leave, needed to get the fuck out of here before the old anger started to resurface and they ended up in another stoush, but Deimos put a hand on his arm to keep him there, loosening his grip when Cain froze, brushing his fingertips along the inside of Cain's arm instead. He stopped when he reached the palm of Cain's hand, pressing the pads of his fingers to the calloused skin, like he wanted to take Cain's hand in his, thread their fingers together, but was too scared of what might happen if he tried it. He was too smart to try it.

He bit his lip and grimaced, swallowed hard and forced out, "I know what you think. But I didn't do it to mess with you, I swear, it was just..." He blew out a long breath and closed his eyes. Cain stared hard at his face and ground his jaw, wasn't sure he wanted to hear the rest of this. Not when it was going to make him want to punch Deimos, or Abel, or both of them. "He started asking questions," Deimos finished. "And he was standing real close, and it was dark, and I... I didn't mean for it to happen. Neither of us did."

"Just tripped and fell on his lips?" Cain sneered.

Deimos winced. "It was fucking stupid. It won't happen again."

"Fucking right it won't--"

"Just wait. Please?" Deimos slid his hand up to Cain's neck, looked him in the eye now and licked his lips. Cain sat still, waiting, wondering just how much he should let the little shit get away with, until Deimos pulled him down and pressed their lips together, fingers light on the back of Cain's neck and stroking the ends of his hair. His lips were soft as they moved along Cain's jaw, the corner of his mouth. It was the first time they'd actually kissed since Abel.

Cain let it go on longer than he should have, pushed a hand beneath Deimos' shirt to palm his skin, the bumps of his ribs, all the little raised scars on his chest and sides--some still scabbed over, most of which he'd inflicted himself. Cain let his fingers roam over the area adjacent to Deimos' heart, where his mother had given him the first of his scars, and quickly drew back; didn't want to think about why Deimos insisted on reliving the trauma by his own hand.

"Cain," Deimos whispered as Cain pulled away.

Cain pressed a hand to the centre of Deimos' chest and firmly pushed him back, making sure he stayed there. "Just remember what I said, alright?" he muttered, scrubbing a hand through his hair and getting to his feet.

He was startled to find Deimos' navi standing frozen by the door, cold blue eyes appraising Cain with obvious revulsion. Cain hadn't heard him come out of the head but wondered if Deimos had. The navi's slender arms were folded, a towel twisted around his head and another slung low on his waist. Cain glared right back at him.

"Er, was there something you wanted?" the navi asked, lip curled, not bothering to hide his disgust.

"Heh, maybe," Cain answered with a smirk, closing the distance between himself and the navigator and leering down at him. He brushed the back of the navigator's hand with his knuckles. "Why don't you tell me... You think you got something I want?"

The navi leaned away from him and batted at the air, wrinkling his nose and whining, "Deimos, he's sexually harassing me, _do_ something!"

Cain snorted and let himself out, the door hissing closed behind him and the muted sound of arguing following him right to the end of the corridor.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry, I had to break up the angst with some Phobos/Cain hateflirting.
> 
> Also, I really have no clue what Deimos' height/weight might be, I'm just guessing. And I'm a really bad guesser.


End file.
